


Something Invaluable

by PenguinPickle



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinPickle/pseuds/PenguinPickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Thank you Porthos, for saving my life a thousand times over.”<br/>Porthos teaches Aramis something invaluable. Rated M for swearing. Short and sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Invaluable

The sun was beating down strongly on the two musketeers as they made camp. Although the summer was hotter than most, Aramis still had to make a fire to cook the fish that Porthos caught. The two of them had just completed a simple mission; delivering a letter from the king to one of his aristocratic friends in the far country. Aramis still had no idea why they had to go but Treville said the king was insistent that the letter held sensitive information. This on its own was a little worrisome as it seemed unwise that the king share information with an aristocrat, no matter how high born they were. However, upon reaching their destination Aramis immediately understood why. The retriever of the letter was a beautiful woman whom Aramis suspected the king had taken a liking to. Upon handing the letter to her, Aramis gave her one of his most dashing smiles and she blushed instantly. Porthos’ eyes almost rolled to the back of his head.

And so here they were, making camp for the journey back which would probably take them a few days. Treville had told them to take their time “enjoy the scenery.” When Aramis and Porthos raised their eyebrows at the statement, Treville sighed and said they deserved a break.

Porthos dumped two small fish on the ground next to the fire. Aramis gutted and cooked them over the flames. The sun was still smiling down at them by the time they were done eating. Aramis rested his back against the willow tree behind him, basking in the pleasant shade. Porthos let out a long groan of frustration.

“It’s too fucking hot to think,” He whined, “I’m going to turn into a pool of melted flesh if I sit here any longer.”

He began removing his leathers until he was down to his under clothing and left them lying in a heap on the ground.

“That’s disgusting,” Aramis replied, “and what the hell are you doing?”

“Going for a swim of course. Care to join?” Porthos stated casually. They had camped a few meters from a river and the crystal clear water looked pleasantly cool.  
“No, thank you.” Aramis replied, opting for his spot in the shade.

Porthos shrugged and made his way to the river and Aramis had to smile at the childlike way he begun enjoying the water. He was diving from rocks and swimming under the surface, making it look like second nature. Aramis sighed, it did look refreshing. He watched his brother for a while and decided there would be no harm in simply sitting on one of the rocks with his feet in the water. Removing his boots, he made his way to the small river and spotted a rock near the deeper side but not far from the bank.

“Finally changed your mind?” Porthos said as he swam toward the rock Aramis was now occupying, “Was it the water or my dashing good looks?”

Aramis smirked, “Obviously it was your good looks my friend, I don’t know how the women of France resist you.”

Porthos chuckled as he swam nearer, “Why not just get in? It’s quite refreshing.”

“I’d rather not ruin my hair,” Aramis joked but got a little nervous at the sudden cunning look on his brother’s face. 

Porthos swam closer and put his hand on the rock, “You telling me that the reason I never see you get in the water is because of that bloody mop on your head?”

Aramis folded his arms across his chest and nudged Porthos with his foot in the water, “Good looks like mine need maintenance, brother.”

Porthos laughed and promptly grabbed one of Aramis’ legs, as if to pull him into the water, “Time to come down to the level of us mere mortals then!”

Aramis quickly made to pull away, “No! Porthos I can’t…”

But he could not finish his sentence as Porthos yanked him into the water. Aramis did not quite know what was happening as he was suddenly submerged. He tried to move his arms and legs but that only resulted in him going deeper. The three seconds that Aramis was under water felt like eternity as time slowed down and Aramis was sure he would die. He looked up and noticed how the sun rays were shining through the surface and somehow in his moment of sheer panic he thought it was one of the most beautifully deadly things he had ever seen. But Aramis was not left beneath the surface as a pair of hands grabbed under his arms and pulled him back up. Aramis choked up the river water that was in his mouth and grabbed onto Porthos’ shoulders. Gasping for air, Aramis could barely hear what Porthos was yelling through the sound of his own coughing.

“Aramis calm down!” Porthos was all but shouting, “I’ve got you! Quit thrashing!”

Aramis kept and iron grip on Porthos’ shoulders and stopped wriggling when he realised Porthos had not removed his hands from under Aramis’ arms. With a strength that should not belong to any “mere mortal” Porthos lifted Aramis back onto the rock he had dragged him from moments before, without even a grunt of effort.

Once half way on the rock Aramis climbed like a mad man away from the water and before he knew it he had crawled all the way back to the soft grass near the bank. He had heard Porthos get out the water behind him and the man was suddenly by his side, tapping his back to get any remaining water out. Oh, Aramis realised, I’m still coughing. He took in deeper breaths and laid flat on his stomach on the grass, beyond thankful he was far away from the water. Porthos promptly turned him over and lifted him so he was sitting up.

“Aramis,” Porthos said breathlessly, “Are you alright?”

Aramis stared ahead at the river and suddenly felt like a fool. He could feel his blush rising in his cheeks.

“Aramis?” Porthos tried again, “Say something. What happened? When I realised you weren’t coming up I…”

He trailed off leaving Aramis more embarrassed. Aramis stood up on shaky legs and Porthos stood with him, holding a hand out for support. Aramis turned around and walked away, “I’m fine, “ he said, “I need to get more firewood.”

“What?” Porthos asked, his confusion evident in his voice.

Aramis ignored him and walked on into the woods. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him like a hawk. As humiliated as Aramis was about the whole ordeal, he was still a soldier and he never strayed too far from camp. He was grateful that Porthos had let him go but felt his face go hot every time he realised Porthos would ask questions as soon as he got back. He gathered firewood he knew they didn’t need and decided the best way to go explain to his brother was to literally just go do it.

He walked half-heartedly back to camp and as soon as he was in sight Porthos (who was getting dry next to the fire) stood up and walked towards him. Worry and guilt were written plainly on his face as he approached Aramis. He walked slowly as if he were approaching a wounded animal.

“I was just about to come looking for you.” He said softly.

He took the wood out of Aramis’ arms and added it to their already large pile. When he turned back to Aramis he ran his eyes over him, as if checking that the musketeer was still in one piece.

“Aramis…” He began, but was cut off by his brother.

“I can’t… swim.” Aramis said flatly.

There, it was done. There was no going back now. Aramis looked to his feet in shame, expecting Porthos to yell at him. How can a man be a musketeer and not know how to swim?

“Yeah,” Porthos replied simply, “I figured as much when you didn’t come up again.”

Aramis felt his face grow hot again and concentrated on a pebble on the ground.

“Aramis, I’m so sorry… I didn’t realise… you almost…” Porthos stumbled on his words, clearly feeling dreadful about the whole situation.

“Don’t apologise,” Aramis said, “s’not your fault.”

“Why have you never told me?” Porthos asked.

Aramis finally lifted his eyes and looked up to his brother who had moved closer during their conversation.

“I was ashamed.” He answered honestly.

“Come sit by the fire.” Porthos said, “You’re still dripping.”

Aramis obeyed and sat next to his brother. They sat in silence as the sun went down and eventually Porthos’ constant fidgeting got the better of him.  
“There is nothing to be ashamed of you know,” Porthos said, “a lot of people can’t swim. It was stupid of me to assume you could. I truly am sorry.”

“Like I said, there’s no need to apologise,” Aramis insisted, “I never told anyone because, well what kind of a musketeer can’t swim?”

Porthos grunted and raised an eyebrow, “What kind of a musketeer can’t read?”

“What?” Aramis asked, confused.

“When I became a musketeer I couldn’t read,” Porthos reminded him, “but you taught me how and not once did you ever pass judgement on me for it.” 

Aramis huffed, “That’s a completely different situation.”

“No it ain’t. And you know that. Aramis, not being able to swim is not that great an issue.”

Aramis stared at the flames of the fire and tried very hard to believe Porthos’ words.

Suddenly Porthos jumped to his feet and looked down to his brother, “I could teach you!”

“What?” Aramis asked, “No… that’s… no it will never work.”

“If you tell yourself you can’t do it, you’re already setting yourself up for failure.” Porthos said, “You told me that when you were teaching me to read.”

Aramis rolled his eyes, “Yes that may be so. But when one learns to read one has nothing to lose… only something to gain. I could still end up drowning.”

Porthos sat back down and sighed. He looked at Aramis with absolute determination and sincerity, “I would never let you drown Aramis.”  
……  
And so Aramis found himself standing waist deep in river water the next morning, with Porthos in front of him looking far too chuffed with himself than was strictly necessary.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Aramis stated shortly, “Just because you got me to stand in here doesn’t mean I like the idea of this.”

“Well,” Porthos said, splashing him with a tiny bit of water, “let’s say, hypothetically of course, I knock my head unconscious and fall into some water. With you being the only person around to save me would you not wish to know how to swim?”

Aramis rolled his eyes as far as they would go, “That’s not fair.” Although Porthos did have a point.

“C’mon,” Porthos said, holding his arms out, “I swear I won’t let your head go under the water. I swear it on my life.”

Aramis rolled his eyes again, “No one hears of this.”

Porthos raised a brow, “Did you tell anyone you taught me to read?”

“What?” Aramis asked, offended, “Of course not!”

“Exactly.” Was Porthos’ short reply.

Aramis leaned forward and let Porthos pull him into the water. With a firm grip on his arms, Porthos smiled at him like he had every confidence Aramis could do this, because he did. And because Porthos did, Aramis believed he could as well.

“Alright,” Porthos began, “You’re going to start with kicking your legs…”  
……

And so as they made their journey home Porthos taught Aramis more every day. They made sure to camp alongside the river so Aramis’ lessons could continue. By the time they got home Aramis was more than capable of holding his head above the water and Porthos was more than confident his friend would improve in no time. Porthos never once removed his eyes from Aramis when he was practicing, even when he could swim on his own. Staying true to his promise, Porthos never once let Aramis’ head go under the water.  
Aramis’ confidence grew and he soon became comfortable with the idea of possibly diving into the water like he had seen Porthos do. Although, he did make Porthos a promise, which was never to go practice without him. Aramis’ lessons continued for weeks and eventually a weekly swim in the closest river became a fun tradition.

On one particularly hot day they found themselves swimming casually in a river. Although Aramis was, by now, almost as good a swimmer as Porthos, the larger musketeer would always keep an eye on him, a habit which never ceased. Aramis suspected it was because of the incident that had led to him learning to swim. He must have been quite a site.

“That terrifying was I?” Aramis said.

“What?” Porthos asked, clearly confused.

“When we were in the river the first time and I didn’t come up…” Aramis explained, “I must have really scared you.”

Porthos contemplated his words, “Didn’t know what was going on… It was… terrifying.”

Aramis suddenly felt bad, “Well I don’t think I ever thanked you for teaching me. If you never taught me I might have fallen into a river on my own, and not being able to swim I would have drowned. So thank you Porthos, for saving my life a thousand times over.”

Porthos smiled and drifted closer, “And thank you for making me age ten years in three seconds.”

Aramis chuckled, “I must have been a panicking mess.”

Porthos’ face suddenly became very serious, “It was like watching someone trying to bath a fucking cat.”

Aramis splashed him in the face with water. They climbed out the river laughing. As Porthos watched his brother put his uniform back on he swore to himself, whether Aramis could swim or not, he would never let his head go under water again.


End file.
